Page 54 of This Witch Is Not Wicked

He nodded, his apple about a quarter of the way gone. Mine was over halfway. Eating it was bittersweet. A reminder of the past and the present . . . and maybe the future somehow.

“He wants me doing house calls now. That’s going to take up nearly all my time.”

“So say no,” I said, and he laughed.

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is.” I couldn’t count the number of times I’d said no.

No, I wouldn’t stop using my magic.

No, I wouldn’t leave my bog.

No, I wouldn’t destroy my plants.

No, I wouldn’t change. Not for anyone.

“You’re so courageous,” he said, looking at me, those blue-gray eyes always so intense when they were on me.

My cheeks flushed, and I quickly looked away, pretending like I was admiring Ceri’s stand, full of colorful fabrics and clothing. “I don’t know that anyone has ever called me courageous.”

“I have,” he said with a shrug. “You are. You stand your ground and fight for what matters to you.”

“Maybe.”

I wasn’t courageous. I was hiding from everyone. I’d been hiding my entire life. I pushed everyone away, and I’d specifically chosen this bog because of how isolated it was. This was another reminder that Nevan didn’t truly know me. If he did, he’d want nothing to do with me. Admiring my bog was one thing, but knowing everything about my history, about me, was another.

“What do you plan to do with all these potions you’re creating, anyway?” I asked, wanting to turn the attention from myself, but also genuinely curious.

We’d stopped in front of my cottage, and Nevan stared at it.

“I want to open my own apothecary shop, a place where I can sell all my potions. But I doubt Cillian would approve.”

“What does that mean? Why wouldn’t he approve of that?”

Nevan laughed quietly. “I guess I like the mundane. I made a cleaning potion a few months ago. Just a simple potion that you can put onto a mop, and it’ll automatically make dirt and grime disappear. Cillian thought it was a waste of time.”

“He said that?” I asked, wanting to find the prince and give him a piece of my mind.

“Not exactly. He just asked why I wasn’t making potions that could save the world. Told me I was too brilliant to waste my time on silly things. Sometimes I wonder if he’d put more effort into finding a replacement healer if I was making those kinds of potions. Maybe then he’d see my value.”

I turned to fully face Nevan. “You have value. Your value doesn’t lie in what you do or what you create. It’s there because you exist.”

Those were the words I’d needed to hear growing up, and I hoped Nevan believed me.

“It doesn’t always feel that way.” He swallowed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I thought I’d found the perfect place for my apothecary until someone stole it.” He tipped his head toward my cottage with a mischievous smile.

“There?” I pointed. “You wanted your apothecary shop to be where my cottage is?”

“Afraid so. Then this mysterious woman with a mysterious cottage had to go and take it from me.”

I snorted. “Sounds like a woman I’d like.”

“I like her too,” he said quietly, and my head snapped in his direction, but he was gazing forward. He held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go see more of the festival.”

I twined my fingers through his, not able to think of a better way to spend my day than by Nevan Wolfgang’s side.

CHAPTER 22